


foundation

by vikki



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dissociation, M/M, Panic Attacks, SHEITH - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11412750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vikki/pseuds/vikki
Summary: Keith has become as solid as bedrock under desert sand. Shiro keeps splitting apart at the seams.





	foundation

He wakes up.

He knows he’s awake. He knows that makes everything that came before waking a dream, but his brain is all chaos and noise and terror and he has no control over anything. He's shaking and trembling and nauseous but if he throws up he's going to get it all over his cell and it'll stink for days. Is he in his cell?

Something alive is in his space. He lies as still as he can, his tremors uncontrollable, and listens to it and feels it shift next to him. _Kill it kill it kill it_ his brain roars, a shriek over the thundering freight train of his heartbeat, but he can’t - something tells him he can’t kill it. “No,” he tells the killing instinct, speaking out loud - he hears his own voice with a start. His thoughts are chaotic and disjointed again, spinning away from his mental grasp.

The alive thing reaches out. It grasps his flesh hand and throws an arm around his back. “I’ve got you, Shiro. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

It’s Keith. Keith shouldn’t be here. Shiro takes shallow, shuddering breaths and just clings to Keith's hand, his fingers cold and his grip weak, just _nonononono_ coming out of his mouth as he tries to make sense of his surroundings in breathless gasps.

Keith’s hand on his back feels like needles because all contact hurts right now, his entire body is oversensitized and stinging, but he needs it to anchor him down into his body. At the same time he hates it because the gentle touch confuses him. He can't make sense of anything - why is Keith here? Where is here? 

It's not until Keith drags him closer in a tight hug that he feels like he can descend out of the chaos storm, like there's order and air in the space between his mouth and Keith's chest. He can't handle any more reality than that, but he starts to control his own breathing and squints open his eyes in that small space. His grasping hands drag through Keith's clothes, down Keith’s back. Shiro’s whole body is more warm with Keith around him. He’s still shaking but he's not dead. He's not in his cell, is he?

“I am Takashi Shirogane,” he whispers, to make himself believe it more. 

“Yes,” Keith affirms. His voice is gravelly from sleep.

Shiro tears up and says it again, until he starts to believe it. “I am a Paladin of Voltron. I'm not a prisoner,” he adds, but his voice wavers. Thinking about Voltron draws his mind outwards too much and he starts to lose the small pocket of reality he's in. He closes his eyes and makes fists in Keith’s shirt.

Keith’s arms tighten around him. “I’ve got you, Shiro.”

Shiro presses his forehead against Keith’s chest; he can feel the steady thud of Keith’s heart. A thin, whining noise escapes his throat against his will. Keith’s fingers give a gentle squeeze in response, and he says it again: “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Shiro stops focusing on Keith’s words and just listens to the sound of him, letting his whole world be Keith’s heartbeat and voice and the space between his chest and Shiro. Even though he often dreamed of Keith, he could never recreate the warmth of his skin and the rumble of his throat, and knowing this is real - he is here, really here, not drifting and dreaming - helps Shiro’s thoughts and breaths grow calm and slow.

The rapid, shallow beat of his pulse slows, too. His skin stops hurting at every brush of contact. He lets his thoughts expand; he can accept he's in a room on the Castle of Lions, which is adrift in the great void that is the universe between galaxies. The thought of all that empty space is too much again and Shiro longs for Earth, he longs for the Garrison, he longs for the desert where ‘empty space’ was breathable air and the endless stretch of expansive sky over red dust mesas. 

But Shiro has enough strength to force his thoughts away from the size of the universe and thinks instead of Keith’s skin, pressed against his neck and cheek. He thinks about Keith resting in the crook of his arm while listening to Altean music and Keith smiling at him after a successful mission. He thinks about their fingers being intertwined in bed after a long day.

Keith waits until Shiro's breathing is even and softened to gently scratch his fingers through Shiro's buzzcut. Shiro shivers at the pleasant tickle of it. “Better?” Keith asks, his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” Shiro murmurs. He tucks his head into the juncture of Keith’s neck and shoulder.

“Bad dream?” 

“Not sure.” All his limbs feel weak like he exercised himself past exhaustion. “Just kinda worn out.”

“Mm.” Keith nods and squeezes the back of Shiro’s neck.

They’re both silent for a while; Keith’s hand brushes down Shiro’s spine in measured strokes, and Shiro’s pulse stops throbbing against his ribcage. “Think I’m back,” Shiro eventually whispers. He can think about Voltron without his throat closing up and the emptiness of space without feeling lost.

Keith’s grip softens but doesn’t drift away. “Welcome back,” he says gently.

Somewhere between Shiro’s last email from Kerberos’ orbit and the day he crash-landed back on Earth, a part of Keith has become as solid as the bedrock under desert sand. He’s always been stubborn, but now he’s steadfast. Shiro doesn’t mean to cling to him, but Keith is almost as much home as the Garrison was, now.

“Good to be back,” Shiro says.

**Author's Note:**

> the worst panic attack i've ever had, I literally thought I was going to die. I wrote the rough draft of this immediately following one only about half as bad.
> 
> reviews appreciated, and i try to reply to all of them! Thank you for reading. :)


End file.
